


Happy Days

by DashFnanz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Children, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Slice of Life, The Burrow (Harry Potter), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Weasley Family-centric (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27777592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DashFnanz/pseuds/DashFnanz
Summary: Molly looks around her kitchen and smiles. Charlie and Bill are still playing outside, and Percy and the twins are playing inside, and Ron is safe as can be with his father. There's no better joy she can have in her life than this—her whole family here with her, safe and whole and loved.
Relationships: Arthur Weasley & Percy Weasley, Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Bill Weasley & Charlie Weasley, Fred Weasley & George Weasley, Molly Weasley & Percy Weasley, Molly Weasley & Weasley Family
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Happy Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DobbyRocksSocks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DobbyRocksSocks/gifts).



> This is the fluffiest fluff I've ever written, guys. This is as fluffy as it gets. This is sadly unbetaed, so any mistakes are mine.
> 
> This fic was inspired by something Bex [(DobbyRocksSocks)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DobbyRocksSocks/pseuds/DobbyRocksSocks) prompted me with, so this one's for her. She deserves all the fics, so why not?
> 
> Disclaimer: J.K Rowling is not a goddess, but her writing is magical, and I can never compare. So, she keeps the characters, the places and her own created world, while I borrow them all every now and then like the pathetic human I am. The plot is all mine though!

"Arthur?"

"Yes, dear?"

"We have too many kids."

Arthur chuckles. "You say that every week, dear."

"Well, if I do it that often, there must be some truth in it."

Arthur rolls his eyes but doesn't reply, letting the silence linger in the room. The only sounds in the kitchen are the quiet murmurs and huffs from five-year-old Percy and the twins, messily lounging on the sky blue rug set out for them on the tiled floor for Percy's Muggle chess-set.

It's not even eleven in the morning, and Molly is already dead on her feet. This is the most she has gotten to sit all morning—she's just fed Ron, her youngest, and Ronnie is fussy in that he won't allow her to feed him sitting down, or let her put him to sleep standing up. Having just gotten the baby to nap, she takes the opportunity to rest a little, rocking him lightly in her arms as he huffs his tiny breaths.

Just then, Molly's two oldest boys come running into the kitchen, scampering up to her rocking chair where she sits near the window.

"Mum, Mum!" Charlie excitedly exclaims. "Look what we found in the garden!"

He cups his little hands and holds them up to her, letting the muddy brown toad encased in his palms stare glassily at her with large jet black eyes. She suppresses a little flinch, trying to smile properly at her boys.

Bill bounces in place. "He hopped right into Charlie's arms! Isn't he cool?" He pauses, cocking his head. "Wait, it _is_ a he, isn't it, Mum? Is it a _she_? Can you tell?"

The amphibian squirms, seemingly about to hop right out of its warm place and right onto Molly's face. She fights another shudder.

"No, Cranberry, don't move!" Charlie cries loudly, holding tighter onto the toad. "You'll fall!"

"Keep it down, boys, your brother is asleep," Molly warns, hushing six-month-old Ron in her arms when he starts to softly whimper at the noise. They instantly look abashed, Bill fiddling with his thumbs as Charlie bites his lip.

"Sorry, Mum," they whisper contritely. Bill leans in and bends down, whispering "sorry, Ronnie," in his baby brother's ear. Ron sleeps on peacefully.

Charlie changes his hold on the toad, clasping it by its body and wriggling it lightly. "Say sorry, Cranberry," he says sternly, and the toad croaks on command.

Molly winces lightly, trying to ignore the christened name. Charlie has the habit of naming the things he grows attached to, and the even worse habit of getting attached to things too easily. Her second youngest could always be depended upon to come up with the quirkiest names—part of his charm, as Arthur always says. She has no idea how the warty little thing earned the name 'Cranberry', and she has no inclination to find out.

Arthur lowers his newspaper, watching them all over the rim of the paper with absolute fondness in his eyes.

She spares her husband a quick smile before giving her attention back to the children. "You're supposed to be de-gnoming the garden," she points out, hiding her amusement, and the boys instantly strike up a protest. To their credit, they don't talk above a loud whisper.

"We _were_ de-gnoming, Mum!" Charlie starts.

"Yeah, Mum, we were!" Bill continues, looking affronted.

"Bill even pulled out some of the dandelions! I helped!"

"Dad does them all the time, Mum! He says they're the bad plants. We're big boys now, we wanna help too!"

"Cranberry came to _us_ , Mum! We were working hard, promise, and he came climbing all the way into my arms. Wait—is it a he? Mum, is it a _he_ or a _she_?"

She shakes her head fondly at Charlie. "I don't know, baby," she says, smiling, "but he looks like a _he_. Cranberry can be a _they_ if you're that worried, though."

She reaches out with one hand to ruffle Charlie's bright red hair, settling Ron better on her lap. She ignores his whine of, "I'm not a _baby,_ Mum!" and smiles at the two of them again.

"Now, why don't you take Cranberry out to the garden again and let them go back to their home? I'm sure they must be longing to get back to their family."

Charlie's shoulders fall. "We can't keep them?" he asks, dejected, and Bill instantly follows up with a disappointed groan.

"Oh heavens, no," she chuckles to them. "They must have just been excited to say hi to a new friend—but don't you think they miss their own home? They might have a Mum and Dad, or two lovely brothers just like you both." Bill goes red at that, but Charlie still looks sad.

The sound of crinkling paper fills the Burrow's kitchen, and Molly looks up to see Arthur smiling at them, the corners of his bright blue eyes crinkling with its own smile. "Charlie, Bill," he calls out to his sons, and both the boys instantly swivel towards their father, their faces brightening slightly. "I don't have to go in to work today," he tells them seriously, and their faces light up even more at the prospects they are undoubtedly imagining.

"You're staying home then, Dad?" Bill asks innocently.

"Why, I am!" Arthur responds pleasantly, folding his paper closed and setting it on the dining table. "And I was thinking we could do something fun today—we can play Dragons, maybe? And we'll break out the brooms later; that'll be fun. What do you say?"

Bill looks ecstatic, but Charlie's eyes positively shine. He looks so much like her husband, she thinks to herself. He has her personality, but the looks are all Arthur.

"Yes, yes, yes!" they cry, remembering to lower their voices for Ron's sake at the very last minute, and Charlie looks ready to scamper off with his toad and release it into the wild in that very instant if it gets him to playing Dragons with his father any quicker. She hides a laugh at his excitement, watching Arthur's eyes twinkle at the looks on his sons' faces.

"Now, off you go," she tells her children, and Bill turns his head back to her at the sound of her voice. "De-gnome first, then you both can play in the garden as much as you like. I'll call you in for lunch."

Bill cheers, then drags Charlie by the elbow out the kitchen door with a hasty "bye, Mum," thrown over his shoulder.

"Wash your hands from the tap outside when the toad is gone!" she calls softly to their retreating backs.

Arthur smiles at her, opening his mouth to say something, but he's interrupted by twin shrieks from the two-year-olds.

"MUMMY!"

Fred and George are up on their feet, toddling towards her insistently with another cry of "Mummy!"

"Mum, they're breaking the rules all the time!" Percy whines sullenly, getting up from the rug himself.

Arthur chuckles softly. "Come here, Perce."

Percy walks over to his father and lets Arthur lift him up onto his lap. Their matching red hair shines orange in the sunlight, one little head tucked under the other. "They won't listen to me, Daddy," Percy starts as soon he settles himself. "And they keep knocking over my pieces!"

Fred and George finally reach her, resting their tiny hands on each of her knees and looking up at her with big blue eyes. She's embarrassed to admit that it takes her a couple seconds to distinguish who is who—Fred has his head tilted to the side, blocking her view of the little mole on the side of his nose that she uses to identify him.

She makes a note to give them both different haircuts when she trims their hair this week.

"Mummy, where boom-boom?" George asks in his high voice. She frowns for a second, confused at her two-year-old's question, when Fred sorts out her confusion with his own follow-up.

"Horsie no boom-boom!"

"Oh!" Molly exclaims with a little laugh. "You want the wizards' chess set."

George nods frantically, his fiery curls tumbling all over the place. "Make horsie boom-boom!"

"Uh huh!" Fred nods in tandem.

She laughs again, shaking her head fondly. "Boys, that set isn't for you. It's too dangerous; you know the rules. No playing with explosions of any kind till you're at least seven like Charlie."

"But _boom-boom!_ " Fred whines, pouting expressively.

She shakes her head to herself again. Her twins are going to be handfuls, she knows it. At this age, she had been scolding Bill for putting his fingers in his mouth, not for his tendency towards exploding things.

She's had to put the twins in time-out for trying to sneak the jar of baking soda from her kitchen four times now. She doesn't even know how they know what it does or or how to identify it from all the other powdered white ingredients in her kitchen or even how they got all the way up into her cabinets—she's convinced that they have an innate magical ability to sense what items are explodable, and what could potentially be used to make something explodable. Like Arthur with his Muggle trinkets, but ten times more dangerous.

"You can watch when Bill and Charlie next decide to play with their set, alright? I promise." She adjusts Ron in her arms again. "Now, your brother is being nice enough to share his set with you—why don't go back and play with him?"

"Nuh uh," Fred shakes his head wildly.

"Wan' boom-boom horsie," George plaintively whines, making his big blue eyes even bigger.

"See, they want the horses again, Daddy!" Percy's voice cries. From the indulgent look on Arthur's face, Percy must have been complaining all this time. "They only wanna play with the _horses!_ "

Fred silently throws his arms up, expecting to be sat on her lap. She sighs and smiles, settling Ron into the cradle of one arm before she reaches for Fred. She thinks she sees Fred sticking out his tongue at Percy while she's adjusting Ron, but when she turns to him he's still facing her, innocent as an angel.

George drapes himself over her knee, his pointy little chin digging into her thigh. "Wan' boom-boom," he sighs sadly, huffing into her lap.

Molly sees the exact second the glint in Fred's eyes turns devious.

"Wan' boom-boom, wan' boom-boom, wan' boom-boom!" he cries into her ear, growing steadily louder. "Boom-boom boom, boom-boom!"

She's trying to calm him down before he wakes Ron, but Fred kicks lightly at George's shoulder with his leg and gets his brother to chant with him. She's helpless to do anything as they throw their fit together, frantically trying to rock Ron back to sleep without success. Soon, the baby's displeased wails join the twins' yelling, and her coaxing and soothing is doing nothing to quiet either of them down.

It's a blessing to see Arthur crouching by her side, lifting Fred off her lap and easing the ringing of the wailing in her ears. Percy is by his side, wide-eyed and still sullen, hands clapped over his ears. She tries to shush him and gets a reluctant smile in return.

"Fred, George," Arthur says firmly. The quiet authority in his voice instantly freezes them. "Is this the way your mother has taught you to behave?"

Fred and George glance and her quickly, then look back at their father. "Nuh?" Fred tries, voice quivering.

Arthur crosses his arms. "Your mother said no, boys. She didn't say it to be mean; she's just looking out for you. Now, you both weren't being very nice to Mummy, were you? And you were mean to Ronnie too, see? Look at him crying—you scared him."

George's lip trembles.

"Apologise now. Both, to Mummy and to Ronnie."

George turns to her with sad eyes, looking genuinely apologetic. "Sorry, Mummy," he says sadly, "I no wan' ta be mean."

Molly feels her resolve melt. "Oh, you're not mean, Georgie," she says, thumbing his chin lightly, "but you can't just scream and yell every time something doesn't go your way. You know that. And when you yell, you make others unhappy, see? Ronnie's so upset that his brother is sad. Do you want Ronnie to be sad too?"

Ron wails louder in her ear, his little face red from screaming his considerable lungs out.

George looks at his brother, his face crumpling. "Ronnie no cry," he says to the baby's face, "I happy now."

Molly wishes that the adorable plea of a two-year-old would be enough to quiet her baby, but it isn't. George looks at her fearfully when Ron doesn't stop crying, like he's broken his little brother. She gives him a reassuring smile and a pat on his chubby shoulder, and tells him that she will take care of Ron.

"Fred?" Arthur prompts.

"I sorry," Fred replies to Arthur, and he shakes his head and points his son in Molly's direction.

"I'm not the one you need to apologise to, lad," Arthur says softly, giving him an encouraging look.

"I sorry, Mummy," Fred says, looking her in the eyes, then turns to Ron. "I sorry, Ronnie. Don't be sad."

"You're sorry for causing a ruckus?" Arthur persists. Fred shakes his head vehemently from side to side, and well, she supposes she should admire her son's honesty.

"I sorry for makin' Mummy 'n Ronnie sad." Arthur gives him a look, half amused and half stern.

"It boooooring, Da," Fred whines to his father. "Pee-Pee boooring too."

"Fred Weasley!" Molly exclaims. "Be nice to your brother!"

"My name's _Percy_ ," Percy mutters to himself. "Not _Pee-Pee._ "

"Well, next time you find something _boring_ , you come to me and Mummy, okay? You tell us what's bothering you before throwing a tantrum."

"'Kay, Da!"

Arthur shakes his head fondly. "Now, how about we go check our game stash and find something for you kids? Percy, do you mind playing something else?"

"Guess not," Percy heavily sighs, with all the solemness that could be mustered by a five-year-old.

"Okay, then," Arthur smiles. "Come on, Fred, George. Percy, stay here with your mother and keep her company, why don't you?"

"'Kay, Daddy," Percy replies with a small smile. Molly cannot help beaming at him—he is just so adorable. Percy sees her smile and ducks his head bashfully.

Arthur gathers both the twins in his arms, talking to them as he leaves the kitchen. "I have the perfect thing for you boys, you're going to love it…"

Molly watches them go, easing Ron more comfortably into her arms and rocking him properly. She looks at the softly crying baby and smiles. "You're so needy, aren't you, Ronnie? Don't worry, baby, I still love you."

His wails have dwindled, nothing more than loud sniffles and the occasional sob, but his face is still too red for him to be comfortable. She hums under her breath, singing the song her mother had taught her all those years ago, bless her soul.

Percy watches her under his lashes, and she sings a little louder so that he can hear too. He leans against her side and rests his elbow against the arm of her rocking chair, and the longer she sings, the more she feels him relax against her.

"Do you want to help put your brother to sleep?" she asks on a whim, and he nods silently, his brown eyes shining. She guides his little hand to the back of the baby's head, gently guiding Percy's hand into running against Ron's soft, downy hair. Percy takes over himself, petting his little brother to the rhythm of her lullaby, and with their ministrations, she watches her youngest's eyes droop and fall closed.

"You're doing well, Perce," she whispers to him softly, and the gap-toothed little smile he gives her in return makes her chest tight.

"I like your song, Mum," he whispers back, and she smiles reflectively.

"Do you?" she says to him, "My own mum taught it to me when I was very little. I think I was your age, back then. Some things, Percy, you never forget."

"Can you teach it to me sometime?" he asks innocently, and she smiles again.

"Of course, baby." Ron lets out a soft sigh, wriggling unconsciously in her arms. "Why don't I teach it to you now?"

"Daddy'll be back any minute," Percy replies softly. "When you teach me, I want to never forget, just like you."

She feels tears spring to her eyes, blinking them away. Not for the first time she wishes her mother was still here, that her mum could get to meet all her boys. Mum would have loved all her children, she knows. She'd be so proud of them all.

"Then I promise," she says, "I'll teach it to you soon one day, and you'll remember it forever and ever, just like me."

She leans up and kisses his forehead softly, and he smiles happily at her in response—no bashfulness, no embarrassment, and she feels so loved by her sons in that moment.

Arthur comes back soon enough, toting a twin in each hand and floating along a Muggle game-box behind him. When he sets it down on the rug, Molly sees that it's the one with the brightly coloured building blocks that her husband had bought last week. Arthur has chosen well, she thinks—the twins will love building things with them. And they'll love breaking the things they build even more.

Percy brightens and scurries over to them, sinking to his knees and watching Arthur unpack and lay out all the block pieces on the rug for them. He looks just as eager as the twins, if not more so, attentively listening to Arthur's deep soothing voice telling them how to use the blocks.

She sits in her chair and looks at her family happily playing on the floor in front of her. She can hear Bill and Charlie hooting loudly in the garden, and their high, familiar voices are as soothing to her as the baby breathing evenly in her arms.

Arthur finally untangles himself from the twins clinging to him like limpets and gets up with a grunt to join her by the window. He makes his way to her, squeezing her shoulder before moving to the side to rest against the window-sill.

"Not even forty yet, and my knees are already protesting," Arthur jokes to her. "Getting old, I am."

She smiles at him, taking in his slowly-thinning red hair and the laugh lines around his mouth and the crinkles around his eyes and feels a fondness for him so strong it threatens to overwhelm her.

"Arthur?" she asks suddenly.

"Yes, dear?"

"I want another."

And he doesn't have to ask what she means, doesn't have to even look into her eyes to know that she is serious. He smiles to himself, then smiles at her before his eyes start to twinkle teasingly.

"Aren't you the one who tells me every week that we have too many?" he asks softly with a light lilt to his voice, and her lips twitch in acknowledgement.

"We _do_ have too many, dear," she answers. Her smile softens. "But like you say, we can never have enough love."

Arthur blinks and smiles, and the blue eyes she fell in love with all those years ago sparkle like the sea under the brightest of suns. "We'll talk tonight," he promises lowly, and she already knows what his answer will be.

She gives him one last smile and hands Ron to him before she gets up, calling off her self-imposed rest time to get back to work. Charlie and Bill are still playing outside, and Percy and the twins are playing inside, and Ronnie is safe as can be with his father.

There's no better joy she can have in her life than this—her whole family here with her, safe and whole and loved. It is as Arthur says—there can never be enough of this love.


End file.
